


In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger

by FlyingFalling



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Broken Families, Canon-Typical Violence, Crisis of Faith, Families of Choice, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Period Typical Bigotry, Prayer, References to Depression, Secret Relationship, UnDeadwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 05:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21230597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFalling/pseuds/FlyingFalling
Summary: "Anyone who is a child of God does no sin, because he still has God's seed in him; he is not able to be a sinner, because God is his Father." - I John 3:9





	In the eyes of a saint I'm a stranger

  
Matthew had never been a God-fearing man. He was devout but he had never feared God’s wrath. Ever since he had been a child he had been well-versed in the holy bible and truly believed in God; not so much in what his earthly representatives preached. A little ironic, considering he himself was a servant of God, and as such supposed to preach nothing but the words written in His holy book.

His life motto had brought him forward nevertheless. He had always followed this simple logic: one lived and took what one needed. After all everyone had to get along somehow.

Surely God did not regard it as a serious crime when you took more than you really needed once in a while. There were always bad times and one had to live through those all the same. Or rather one had to survive through both joy and hardships.

Before he became Reverend Matthew Mason, he was just Matt. At least that was what his mother had called him years and years ago. She had named him after his father, but could never bring herself to actually call him by his full name. Even back then the Holy Father had been more faithful to Matthew than the man who had begotten him.

If he had not ... no, there was no use in thinking about ghosts of the past. What had happened had happened_. __“__In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace.”_

God was omniscient and all-seeing. Matthew could hardly ask for forgiveness more than he had already done. Almost every day since, well, since he had run. Even though the almighty Lord forgave his people, Matthew still doubted his infinite love. Had he not been reminded often enough that, despite all his prayers, his own mother would not walk in God's eternal kingdom?

Just because she had been unwed before being with child. Just because she did not want to suffer anymore. The townsfolk had whispered, and pointed at their young Reverend, as soon as he assumed the position. _There he walks, the servant of the Almighty Father,_ was what they had whispered_, and out of all people it is his very own mother who takes her own life. _...They had also called it just punishment for a Reverend’s whore and mistress.  
  
Perhaps his growing doubts in God’s righteousness were due to the words of the people he had been trying to help for years. With grief and pain in his heart - Matthew, the one who always attempted to aid his community - had simply asked for empathy. Though, as soon as he had paid his mother the last respect, Matthew had left everything that connected him to her behind. He had quite literally burned his bridges behind himself.  
Doubt was the seed of the devil. But was it not attributable to God in the first place that his mother was so seriously ill? Was it not God's will that her body was too frail for earthly afflictions? Was it not God's will that she, in body and mind, broke at some point?

Even here, surrounded by strangers and far from any known faces, Matthew felt persecuted. His love for God had always been waging a war with all the doubts he has had for years. His companions were not quite friends, and yet they were all gathered here for one reason. He still believed that everything had meaning. Yet he did not always understand the tragedies of life as part of His plan.

Was it also the plan of the Almighty Lord that His lambs would rise from their graves and do unspeakable horrors to the living? Some time ago, Matthew would without hesitation have called it the devil's work and done everything in his power to protect God's creation from the clutches of Satan. But now he did not know what he should do. Or what he should believe.

Mrs. Landisman, who still insisted that he simply call her Miriam, had once asked him how he could be rooted in his faith when bad things happened to good people. Matthew's response that it was love which strengthened his faith had not been untruth. But Miriam was not satisfied with that answer and neither was he. Matthew despised lying and yet his words were only spoken in good earnest. Matthew did not dare mention the words he left unsaid.

He loved – for he was created in the imagine of God - and yet all those whom he had once loved were dead. Still, Matthew dared not even think about where their very souls may now linger between heaven and hell. He knew for certain that his own would one day not rise into His kingdom of Heaven, but descend down into Hell. That was what his father had predicted before the final, lethal shot had struck its target.

That night, his blood had stained Matthew’s hands. It made no difference; after all, he had never been pure. As the son of a servant of God, he knew all the sins and confessions of their community.  
  
He knew the temptations other people fell prey to and knew about their darkest thoughts. He knew of every foul thought and vice; for Matthew himself was a child of carnal sin.

He had been told he was alone with his immorality and yet he knew that he was not alone with his guilt. But it was one thing to be aware of and another to give into said vices.  
  
It had always been an open secret who his father and teacher had been. But no one spoke openly about the broken oath of the man who had promised his mortal life to God. An oath to renounce all earthly pleasures and to life instead in celibacy.   
  
Nevertheless, his loyal congregation understood how to locate a badly needed culprit in this matter. Thus the sole blame was attributed to Matthew's mother. After all, the whole affair must have been her scheme to lead a virtuous man astray.

Matthew's father had not been a bad person. Not when it came to his mother’s opinion of the man. He had never mistreated her deliberately; Matthew blamed him for her death regardless. After years of disregard, her heart was eaten away by feelings of guilt for which she was not to blame. For which she should not have been blamed. Even worse than her acceptance of the peoples’ accusation was her quiet hope that her lover would eventually resign and take her as his wife.

In all those years when the grief was gradually destroying her, Matthew had never seen his mother’s eyes as clear and alive as in the faint moonlight falling through the church’s windows. The illumination gave her cheeks an almost inhuman glow and yet to her son she had never looked more beautiful.  
  
In the end it had been her who passed judgment on the man she had once loved with every fiber of her heart. Sobbing and having fallen to his knees he implored her to be merciful. Begging her for the same mercy which God had bestowed upon His creation.  
  
Matthew, who brought dinner to his mother every evening and looked after her, had followed them at a distance. At the time Matthew had only seen his mother - who never so much as spoke about the firearm she kept under her bed - leading her lover at gunpoint towards the church square. Uncertain of what to do he had followed his parents at a distance; afraid his mother would do something rash should she recognize her son amidst the darkness of the night.

Filled with dread and an unpleasant premonition Matthew had slipped through the still wide open gates. Unnoticed he stayed just out of sight, or so he had hoped, only to watch the scene of his mother forcing his father to kneel in front of the cross; with his back to the altar. As if frozen in place Matthew had only been able to quietly witness as she forced the servant of God to turn his back on his faith and instead look at her. She snarled at him with a bitterness Matthew had never before heard passing her lips that he should look at her like he had never seen her before; with full and undivided attention.

_“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, Our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified; died, and was buried. He descended into Hell; the third day He arose again from the dead; He ascended into Heaven, sitteth at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.”_

His father's last prayer was still echoing in Matthew's ears. He still heard the remnants of fear, and the finally no longer quiet satisfaction of his mother once she kept aim.

The words spoken at that time now fell from his lips over and over again. Clasping the cross of his rosary, Matthew dared not look up to the sky. He would never expect a burning bush or an angel of God descending to smite him. Neither did he expect one to select him as the herald of a sacred message. Rather, Matthew reckoned what would surely befall him were the seductive words of a serpent not unlike the one who had brought about the Fall of Man.

  
Soon the soothing words of the Ave Maria followed the Apostles' Creed. Gradually Matthew's breath calmed down again. He had promised Arabella that he would wake the group when he felt the demons of his past return to torment him. But he had kept silent - thus concealed the truth: his actions never really let him go as God was their witness. Their consequences pursued him, and would eventually catch up with him.

To think of sin was as bad as living it out. He still remembered the passing words that such behavior was not frowned upon in Deadwood. If Matthew, who had never dared looking too closely, correctly interpreted the glances between Miriam and Arabella, then there was more to them than a sisterly alliance. Between the two women he saw what he had previously only seen one-sided in the eyes of his mother. Whenever she was listening to a sermon her eyes had been full of devotion as if mesmerized not by the words but by the man speaking them. It felt wrong to do so but Matthew could not call it anything else than pure awe and love. They were the very emotions which should be reserved for the Lord above alone, not one of His messengers.

His words to God had become more urgent then, almost pleading, as he thought of the furtive glances between the two women. All this was familiar to him, far too well.

It had not been his intention to witness their reunion after they had suddenly been separated during a scouting tour. This time Arabella had voluntarily ridden off with Clayton. The others had followed them in a short distance. However, Aloysius's warning had come too late. As a result, the group had to split up reluctantly in an attempt to depose the beasts that persecuted them at the time.  
  
To make matters worse, Arabella's shrill scream almost startled Matthew’s horse enough to throw him off. Glancing over at Miriam besides him Matthew dared not shoot in their direction. Their path was narrow and there was nothing but a ravine beside them. It only went further up in one direction and even quicker down in the other.

Shooting in their direction right then and there meant risking not striking the godless creatures but one of his companions. Or taking Matthew’s talent into consideration, he might risk striking himself.  
  
In addition, Matthew was the one who had held onto the reins, while Miriam proved her skill with firearms once more. And so Matthew had to watch as the horse of the two riders in front almost stumbled as one of the beasts continued to catch up to them. Two of them had already been taken down, but the third creature turned out to be unwilling to face death; maybe for a second encounter.  
  
Then Arabella and Clayton had suddenly disappeared behind a hill and following behind them the beast had done the same. Aloysius cursed, continued to run his horse and dashed after them. Moments later, a shot was fired, and next to the Reverend and his companion the remaining creature vanished into the depths. Without even a moment's rest, the group had ridden on.

Later, as soon as they reached their camp, Arabella slid ungracefully off her horse. Her eyes were focused solely on Miriam, who had also jumped from hers and was already running towards her. Their clothes bloodied and torn in place did not matter, neither did the men around them. They only had eyes for the other.

Matthew had to avert his gaze when the two met in a desperate hug. Miriam finally took a step back, just looked at Arabella and held her hands between hers as if she was reluctant of letting go of the other woman. As if every distance between them was painful and unbearable.

For a brief moment Matthew had allowed himself to take a closer look at the last person in their group. Even with the others still around, he could not tear his eyes away: Clayton had seemed almost completely uninjured then, except for his obvious exhaustion. Nobody in their group really talked about their nightmares. No one dared to ask. Yet they knew that none of them slept soundly.

Somehow Matthew wanted to give comfort. Assure them all that it would get better with time. He could neither bring himself to let himself care about them nor did he really know what would get better. Could it be the nightmares or everything that accompanied them?  
  
Matthew had been spoiled from birth, and over the years it had only gotten worse. He could not look at the gunslinger without yearning for what had been denied to his mother throughout her life. Between teasing comments and nightly conversations about faith and the possible meaning of life, he had gotten to know a side of Clayton that probably no one else ever got to see.

God would surely forgive him for making friends with criminals and murderers. After all Reverend Matthew Mason was nothing but a scammer. He pretended to be pious, and yet he was not much better than his own father.

At the moment of his death, he had looked at his son standing in the church entrance. Then Matthew had been caught looking between the parent who had always ever been an angel to him acting like a creature from hell and the parent who had always been distant and seemingly without love in his heart. Even then his father’s eyes did not speak of regret for what he had done. He did not ask for forgiveness. His look seemed to say, _"Look what will happen to those who allow closeness. See what will become of those who let themselves be tarnished by sin! "_  
  
Holding his rosary out of habit between his fingers, Matthew was asking for forgiveness from the Lord. Not just for himself, but also for the group he had reluctantly let into his heart. Outcasts had to stay together.

_“Anyone who is a child of God does no sin, because he still has God's seed in him; he is not able to be a sinner, because God is his Father.” _So it was written in the Bible. The book of God said many things. Sometimes it contradicted its own verses, especially when it came to sinning. Why should the still delicate bond between Miriam and Arabella be something foul? Why should Clayton's rare smile in Matthew’s company be a sign of the corruption of their souls?

And was not it also God's will that his creation felt love?

Finally, Matthew came to the gradual end of his prayer. He knelt, hunched in the dust. The campfire in his back let the shadows in front of him dance across the floor. It was not quite time to go to sleep yet. Sleep would not give him any kind of peace anyway.  
  
“Hail, Holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us; and after this our exile show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb Jesus, O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary.”  
  
His breath faltered as he felt the familiar lips ghosting over his neck, right above his collar. The following words were whispered into his flesh, auspicious and yet far from piety.

_"Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God. That we may be worthy of the promises of Christ."_

And yet, even when Matthew closed his eyes with a faint sigh he spoke the familiar words to the end. Only then did he allow himself to be turned around by Clayton, while his beloved's hands and lips found their destination just as reverently. His last "Amen" finally fell silent under the worship of Clayton’s lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Rag'n'Bone Man's song 'Grace'. 
> 
> I'll add all the bible quotes I put into this once I'm back from work tomorrow - which means once I'm more awake in general than I am now considering it's almost 11 pm.


End file.
